Forgiveness
by Mirlasse
Summary: Elwing hears of Elrond's coming to Valinor. She plans to go and meet him, but will he forgive her? Incomplete. Rated T for safety and angst.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the amazing J. R. R. Tolkien.

This is intended as a gap-filler, hopefully canonically aligned, though probably not. It tells of Elwing in her tower, and Elrond's coming to Valinor. Earendil, Celebrian, Elrond, and probably Frodo and Melian will make appearances.

Rated T for safety and angst.

A/N: For the purposes of this story, despite the world being round at this time, Earendil still gets to come home at sunrise. Just go with it, please, even if you don't think that's canonical.

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Elwing was pacing back and forth. Back and forth. To and fro. What else was there for her to do? She had long ago tired of her sewing and knitting. Books no longer held any attraction for her. There was simply waiting for Earendil. Waiting, until the sunrise, when his ship sailed down to her, and she flew up to him, glimmering in the light both of Anor and the Silmaril.

Sometimes she hated the Silmaril. She hated it for its alluring qualities, that had made her unable to give it up to Maedhros. She hated it for taking her husband away during the night. But she also loved it. For its light, eternal beauty, and that it had paved the way to Valinor and released Middle-earth from the hold of Melkor.

The sun had set some time ago, and from her window she could see her husband, gleaming bright, sailing the sky. To and fro, to and fro. Elwing's gaze followed the Silmaril and lighted upon the horizon. The bare, empty horizon, where no land could be seen that broke the wall of sky meeting sea.

She wondered about her sons. The news of Elros' choice and death had come to her, many thousands of years ago. She had wanted to go to Numenor, to see him, but something in her had always held her back. Perhaps it was the Silmaril. Earendil, at any rate, had gone to see Elros, but Elros had been barely recognizable, he had said to her. Earendil did not wish for her to see her son, and be rejected, for choosing a Silmaril above her sons.

Elrond, on the other hand, had chosen immortality. She had thirstily lapped up all news of him, whether it be from Elves or from the birds of the sea. The birds had told her more, that he had built a home in the valley of Imladris, that he had taken part in many wars, and that he had two sons (twins!) and a daughter. His wife had come to Valinor some time ago, and Celebrian was one of the few friends Elwing had, including Melian. But now Celebrian was staying with her grandfather Finarfin, though she had accepted Elwing's offer of a home here in her tower. Melian was currently in Lorien's gardens, Earendil was sailing high above her, and so Elwing was alone.

It had been worse, before Melian had come to her. Elwing had been despairing, nothing to do any more. Then Melian had visited, and the two had become friends. Then Celebrian had come from Ennor, with a poisoned wound. As soon as she heard that Celebrian was healed Elwing had visited. It had not been too long until Elwing was unable to keep back the flood of questions about Elrond, and Celebrian had willingly obliged. Celebrian now had a little room, just under Elwing's and Earendil's.

Elwing stared out the window. It was now deepest night. Earendil's ship could be seen, traversing over the lands her son lived in. Elrond. What was he doing now? Was he thinking of her? Celebrian had assured Elwing that Elrond had forgiven her, and missed her. But Elwing found this hard to believe. She had abandoned Elrond and Elros, at the risk of death at the hands of the sons of Feanor. It had been a blessing of Eru that had inspired pity in Maedhros and Maglor. Perhaps it was also due to her twin brothers. Elured and Elurin. They had been abandoned by Celegorm's servants in Menegroth, during the deepest winter. Maedhros had searched frantically for them, but to no avail. The memory of Elured and Elurin must have stuck with Maedhros, to allow Maglor to keep her twin sons and care for them.

Elwing turned away from the window. The light of Earendil was so bright that she could see her shadow on the wall opposite the window. She walked over to her bed and lay down, attempting to catch some sleep. But within a half-hour she gave up. When Earendil came home, he usually slept the morning away, before waking and spending the afternoon with her. She would sleep then.

She stood up and stretched, no longer looking out the white window. She sat down in her rocking chair and thought.

She wished that she could have gone to Elros and explained. Explained everything, why she refused to give up the Silmaril, why she had abandoned her sons, why she had jumped off the cliff. Why she had not gone to see him in Numenor.

Elwing promised herself that if ever she got a chance, she would explain it all to Elrond. Everything, nothing omitted. That she owed to him and to Elros.

Had Elrond ever gone to Numenor? Had he stood on the western shore at sunrise, looking for a glimpse of her, "shining, rose-stained in the sunrise"*, as Celebrian had said Elves spoke of her?

The sorrow enveloped her again, and she bent down, her head to her knees. The chances she had missed, to speak to her sons and tell them she was sorry. There was no chance left for Elros, as Elwing firmly believed, despite Melian saying that she probably would have a chance at the End of Time. Was there a chance for Elrond, for her to tell him that she was sorry?

Elwing could not bear it. The nights were endless. No Earendil, and no Celebrian, as Elwing refused to wake up Celebrian on her sleepless nights. Melian could be a comfort, but Elwing would push away that comfort. What was wrong with her, that she refused all comfort and help?

She wished that she could throw herself off the tower. But would it work? Ulmo had saved her from the jump off the cliffs, he would probably do it again if she were to jump into the waves far below.

Elwing firmly pushed away the thought. Earendil - and Elrond - would never forgive her. And she could never explain it to Elrond, unless he were to be killed.

The thought brought her head up. Would Elrond, some day, indeed take a ship to Aman? Celebrian had positively asserted that yes, Elrond would someday. But Elwing, in her pessimism, refused this piece of comfort. She would not raise her hopes thus, only for them to be slowly lowered, day by day. Waiting at Sirion for Earendil to return had been enough.

Elwing stood up and looked around. The room was disordered, despite Celebrian's tidying the day before she left for Tirion. Elwing always picked up stuff, only to toss them back on the ground in despair. Celebrian would try to remedy it, but she was too humble to actually tell Elwing to stop it. Melian had given her a lecture, but Elwing was too despondent to answer. And Earendil never noticed.

There was one thing that made this waiting better. Elwing knew that at least Earendil would come home every morning at dawn. There was no endless waiting, like in Sirion. And the Silmaril no longer absorbed her. But her sons were gone, one forever lost.

Elwing reached down and picked up a book that lay discarded on the floor, its pages open. War Strategies of Beleriand. When had she been interested in war strategies? This must be a book of Celebrian's, although it seemed unlikely that gentle Celebrian would like such a book. Perhaps it was another attempt to distract Elwing from her pacing.

Elwing had never liked going to Tirion. The one time she did, to visit Finarfin at Celebrian's insistence, people had stared at her. She had heard the mutters. Finarfin had been kind, and his wife Earwen very nice, but Elwing did not like Tirion. How could she, when those who had helped destroy her life were raised in this city?

A voice called out in her mind. It was not the sons of Feanor who ruined Elwing's life; it was Melkor, the true evil. But they slew my parents! Abandoned my brothers! Killed my people! Held captive my sons! She did not take into account Maedhros' repentance and searching of Doriath or the fact that her sons had been well cared for while under Maglor's care.

Elwing tossed the book away, not caring where it landed, and resumed pacing. To and fro, to and fro. After some time she threw herself on her bed in weariness.

In the the small hours of the night she fell asleep at last. She was so tired that she forgot to fly up to Earendil at the sunrise, which was the highlight of her day. She did not notice Earendil enter, earlier than usual, and fall asleep next to her.

When she woke the sun was high, but it was not yet noon. Earendil lay next to her, still asleep. She noted with dry amusement that he had neglected to remove his shoes, which glittered still from the diamond sand of the streets of Tirion. Her long brown hair covered his face.

Elwing stood up and cast her gaze around the room. She felt a twinge of guilt for not cleaning up properly. She gathered up books and put them on the bookshelf, no order or method. Earendil did inspire in her some tidiness and a relief from the lethargy of the night.

She turned as Earendil stirred and woke. He gazed at her with blue, sleep-lined eyes, and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"Where were you this morn?" Earendil asked, affection and amusement evident in his voice. Elwing did not see why, but she had forgotten that the return home was the highlight of Earendil's day, too.

"I…" Her voice trailed off.

"It's ok, dear. I don't blame you." Earendil pulled Elwing down next to him. They sat there for a while, listening to the cry of the seagulls and the roar of the waves.

After a while she spoke. "Did you see Elrond?" The words tumbled out of her mouth and she immediately wished that she could have been softer. But Earendil did not seem to mind.

"Nay, though I did see Imladris. But it seems to be fading."

A horror struck Elwing. "Do you think…"

"No, I do not think that Elrond has died. The war against Sauron in Ennor has been won. You know I saw that black cloud a while ago, and the eagles told me of his defeat."

"Yes." Elwing rested her head on Earendil's shoulder. "That is good."

"Elrond may come now, darling. Sauron has been defeated, he does not have much to wait for."

Elwing leaped up. "No. Please, Earendil, don't bring up hope."

Earendil looked sadly at her. "But, Elwing…"

"No." Earendil subsided and stood up. His golden curls gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Come on, let's eat," said Earendil.

They walked down two levels to the kitchen and ate lunch in silence. Elwing felt dejected, and Earendil's gaze flickered over her, concerned, worried.

Once they had finished eating Elwing made a half-hearted attempt to clean the kitchen. But Earendil did most of the work. They washed and dried the dishes in silence. Elwing thought that Earendil was the only one to actually and regularly inspire her to actually do something, which Celebrian and even Melian seldom achieved.

When the dishes had been finished they walked to the top of the tower, overlooking the sea. They stood there, still silent. Elwing watched the birds flying about in droves, while Earendil gazed at the rippling waves.

"Did anything happen on last night's voyage?" Elwing asked at last.

"No. Just the same. Sometimes I even get a little bored. You should come with me."

"No, thank you. I don't like boats."

"I wish you did, Elwing. You seem to be so lonely here, with Melian and Celebrian gone."

The tears rose to her eyes, and she fought to keep them from spilling out. Yes, she was lonely. Lonely for her sons. Why did she waste her time in Sirion, she questioned herself again, forgetting about a treasure she only had for a short time?

A sniff escaped her, and Earendil instantly turned and embraced her. She wept on his shoulder, no longer bothering to check the tears that now rolled freely down her cheeks. She cried and cried, the worries and sorrows of her escaping her.

At last she stopped. Earendil still held her close. The sun was now past midday. Elwing dried her eyes and looked out on the sea, blue in the bright light. Earendil's ship Vingelote swung on the western side, anchored by ropes to the tower's battlements. Great white and grey clouds hung in the East, looking like pillows. Overhead, Anor shone through wispy clouds, that looked like feathers.

"Elwing." Earendil's speaking of her name recalled her. "I am sorry."

She could not move. A part of her screamed out "NO!" Why accept the apology? But then she pulled herself together and smiled tremulously at Earendil.

"What have you to be sorry for, Earendil? It was the will of the Valar that you sail the skies for the hope of Ennor."

"Yes, but I, like the idiot I am, chose to sail the seas, abandoning my wife and two children. Seeking foolishly for something that was near impossible. I have wasted years. What little childhood our boys had is long gone, and I missed most of it. I should have been there to comfort you and support you. I am sorry, Elwing."

So Earendil had doubts too. He had worried and fretted over their twin sons, one of whom was lost forever. He was sorry for the abandoning, the neglecting of their sons. Elwing was not alone, truly.

"I forgive you." The words came out as a whisper. Earendil smiled and held Elwing close to him. They stood there, as the wind whistled by and the clouds sailed overhead. Suddenly she straightened.

"Although, will our sons forgive you?"

Earendil stiffened. "Well…" He seemed to pull himself together, and his face was grave. "Elwing, there is something I have not told you."

A dread seized Elwing at these words. What had he not told her?

"When I went to see Elros in Numenor, I didn't want you to see him for a reason." Elwing looked up at him intently. His blue eyes were totally lacking of mirth. Earendil had been very taciturn about the visit to Numenor, and Elwing had wondered why. Now it seemed like at last she would receive an answer. "I asked Elros to forgive me. And - and he refused."

The words did not come as a shock. Of course. Elwing should have known. Elros had every right to, to refuse to give his pardon, to a man of whom he remembered barely anything, save the fact that he was never-present.

"He said something else, too." Earendil's voice was breaking. "He was furious at me, and he said that - that Maglor was a better father."

Maglor. A Kinslayer. One whom had helped slay Elwing's family, and later her people. Who had taken captive her sons, and held them at ransom. Rage and grief enveloped her. Maglor, who should have been an abhorrent and hated person to Elros had instead been a father. And he was probably one to Elrond, as well.

She was recalled by sobbing. Earendil. He was sobbing. And Elwing again began to sob with him. They stood there on the top of the tower, crying in each other's arms, as Anor began to sink and the seagulls mewed.

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To be continued...

* Quote from _The Silmarillion_, page 250, "Of the Voyage of Earendil". I changed the word "sunset" to "sunrise", as it makes more sense to me.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to Tolkien!

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That night saw Elwing waving farewell to Earendil as Vingelot rose into the sky and began to sail towards the Door of Night. Earendil had initially wanted to stay home for that night, saying the Valar wouldn't mind, but Elwing had bid him go. He did not want to leave her in her fragile state, he had said. But eventually Earendil had left, albeit reluctantly, and Elwing was now preparing herself for another sleepless night.

She dressed herself in her nightgown and brushed her long, straight brown hair. Rain pattered against the windows. Elwing's resemblance to Luthien Tinuviel, her grandmother, was visible in her face, figure, and eyes. Especially her eyes. She had the same grey eyes that had enchanted Beren and made him willingly get a Silmaril for Luthien. Everyone commented on the similarity. Elwing's hair, however, was a light brown color, with lighter tints, instead of Luthien's shadowy black hair. Dior her father had told Elwing that her hair was the same color as Beren's. But Nimloth had insisted that the silvery tint of her hair came from Nimloth's own silver hair. Perhaps the Silmaril had had an effect on her hair, as well.

Her hair pinned back in a long braid, Elwing surveyed the room. The fire was burning, a guard against the increasingly colder nights, the majority of the books were put away, and the window were closed against the rain.

She sat down in her rocking chair next to the fire and pulled a quilt made by Celebrian over her. The fire crackled comfortingly. Elwing picked up a warm cloak for Earendil and began to work on it. She was strengthening the hems, and she planned to add a bit of embroidery to the edges. Elwing was a decent broideress, but she was nowhere near the art of Miriel Serinde. Idril had taught her, back in Sirion, and Elwing had proved a good student. Idril and Elwing still corresponded, a highlight of Elwing's life, but now Idril was away in the South of Valinor, with Tuor, her husband. They occasionally came up to Elwing's tower on the northern shores of Aman, and Earendil always enjoyed those visits. Celebrian would often be there, and sometimes Melian, and it was a joyful time. Elwing reveled in those visits. It distracted her from thinking of Elrond and Elros, and put her loneliness at bay.

She sewed and sewed. The rainstorm was swiftly turning into a thunderstorm, hopefully the last of the year. Osse probably was delighting in the violent waves that she could hear crashing against the cliffs. Ignoring the peals of thunder she kept her thoughts light and carefree this night, not wanting a repeat of last night. She thought about how Celebrian could be extremely talkative, and Melian was sometimes hard to understand, and Earendil's stubbornness. She remembered a story in Idril's latest letter, about how Tuor had been dared by a young Elf-child into eating a spicy chili pepper while they were down South, and Tuor's reaction. She recalled Earendil's tales of his various childish exploits in Gondolin, and how the one trick played by Elrond and Elros was so similar - she stopped short. Always it came back to her sons. Elwing let fall the cloak on her lap. Was there no forgetting them?

Elros had refused to forgive Earendil. Did that mean that Elrond would, too? If he ever came to these shores would he forgive Elwing? Elwing knew that she would go and seek his pardon, even if he refused it. But Elros…

A stick snapped in the fire, and Elwing wearily stirred the fire with the iron poker. She stared into it, remembering. Fire. Licking up the walls of houses. Burning down towers. Sirion had been almost entirely built of wood, from the birchwood of Nimbrethil, mostly. No stone quarries were within a reasonable distance of Sirion for serious stone building. The fire had claimed nearly all of Sirion, when Maedhros had approached and she had jumped… No, she would not think of that now. With a serious effort, she wrenched her thoughts back to Melian's latest visit.

It had been a cool, breezy day, and Elwing had enjoyed it. Earendil had still been asleep when Melian arrived, so she and Elwing had gone on a walk along the shores.

"Will you go with Celebrian to Finarfin's home?" Melian had asked.

"No. You know I hate Tirion."

"That alone is no reason for refusing to see your distant kinsman, and upsetting Celebrian. You know what she has lived through."

"I know. I'm not trying to hurt Celebrian or be mean. I just…"

"Stares and whispers are naught but the products of your imagination. Many lasses of the Noldor have grey eyes and brown hair, such as yours."

"They know who I am! They must!"

"Perhaps some do. But not all. These stares and whispers are of your own mind. You are weary, Elwing, and being unreasonable. Your stubbornness has caused you to block your thoughts and your emotions. You reject all comfort. Elwing, you need not keep up these barriers. We love you, and do not forget it."

"But Elrond and Elros…"

"When the world ends, or perhaps before, they will find you and forgive you. Even in Valinor not all find healing. But at the End, you will."

"But that is ages away. And how will they forgive me? You know what I've done."

"The waiting may seem endless. But have I not waited long for my husband to be reborn? And my only child, I will not see 'till the End."

"True, but how many grandchildren and descendants do I have now, whom I do not know?"

"You forget that those descendants are also of mine. But you are worrying yourself endlessly and needlessly. I will say no more."

Yes, Elwing thought now, she always rejected comfort. She wanted to reach out for it and grasp it, but something in her had held her back. Her pride and stubbornness, always hindering. Would that she had given up the Silmaril, at that last conference, before the ruin of Sirion and the last Kinslaying. She had started wearing the Silmaril openly, and as time went on people feared that the sons of Feanor would hear of the Silmaril gracing Sirion. That last conference was horrible. An Elf, Kelearie, whom she had once called friend, had begged her to give up the Silmaril. The horror of Alqualonde and Menegroth could be averted by handing the Silmaril over, Kelearie had said. And she was right.

Elwing had refused Kelearie's plea. She had stood up and pointed out that Kelearie was a friend of the sons of Feanor, especially Maedhros and the Ambarussa. Why should they trust her? And the richness of the crops and fruits was not entirely Ulmo's blessing, she believed. Elwing had thought that it was the Silmaril that had, with its radiance of the Two Trees, the light of Yavanna, the Valie of all things that grow, blessed the harvest and made it so abundant throughout all the years Elwing had had it in her keeping in Sirion. With a pang, she remembered Kelearie rushing out from the council, tears pouring down her cheeks. Elwing had initially felt guilty, but she had haughtily continued on with the council. She and Kelearie had never spoken to each other since, their once strong friendship forgotten. Kelearie she had once met while in Tirion, and they had pointedly ignored each other then. No, Elwing thought, there was no return there.

The fire was slowly dying. Glowing charcoals littered the hearth, and Elwing took up the poker and moved the coals back into the fire. She looked at the clock and jumped. It was already 1:17*.Elwing could never tell time without a clock, her Mannish blood and the fact that she was not a seasoned warrior prevented her from being able to keep an accurate body clock, like most of the Eldar.

Still some time until Earendil would arrive. Elwing pulled the blanket more snugly around her, and picked up the cloak that lay on her lap still, forgotten some time ago. She picked up where she had left off and continued sewing.

Elwing liked the many birds that would come in the bright morning. Seagulls of all kinds, albatross, puffins, a cormorant or two. She would speak with them, and they would tell her all sorts of news of the sea, whether it be some children feeding them bread or new shoals of fish moving up from the South. They would also speak of the latest happenings in Ennor. One albatross spoke of another ship coming from the Grey Havens. The seagulls chattered eagerly of the fishing boats that would set out from Alqualonde. There were also landbirds; sparrows, chickadees, the occasional red finch. They chirped about the small doings of the pine woods behind Elwing's tower. Sometimes a hawk or falcon would repair to her tower, and the littler birds would flit off in fright, and take refuge in Celebrian's shrubs and flowers. When the hawk flew off, then they would return. It was quite entertaining, and helped liven her days.

But of late very few birds had been coming. Autumn was rolling on, and could be seen in the frequent mists and colder nights. About a week ago the maple had had one solitary red leaf, and now practically the whole tree was orange and red. The blueberry bushes looked as if they were on fire, too. Celebrian's late asters were blooming, and they had picked pumpkins a few days ago. Celebrian was a masterful gardener. Elwing helped occasionally whenever she felt like it, which wasn't too often. She preferred to sit on the tower and listen to the birds, or walk amid the pines.

Pines were Elwing's favorite tree, whether they were softly whispering in a light breeze or creaking and wailing in a storm. To a mortal, pines may seem unchangeable, but Elwing knew that pines had shorter lifespans than maples and oaks. Many would fall in this storm, and she wondered idly whether any would land on the path. Celebrian had told her that in Imladris there were many pine woods on the northern slopes. Elrond would walk there when he wanted to get away from everyone… Elrond.

Was he all right? What was he thinking of now? Was he thinking of her? Did the Silmaril light up his path as he walked during the night? The Silmaril, that had prevented his mother from taking proper care of him. Day after wasted, lost - forever day she had spent, staring into the Silmaril's depths. She rarely raised herself from her stupor to attend to her sons' needs. Others had told them bedtime stories. She did not grudge them that - she never had had a talent for storytelling - but she should have at least done something like that to help. She should have been there to comfort her sons in the dead of night when nightmares wakened them. She recalled an instance while Earendil was away, when she had just managed to fall asleep after a long day. Elros had come, sobbing, wanting comfort from some childish nightmare. And she, Elwing, had told him not to bother her and to go ask Elrond or someone. Elros had reluctantly left, leaving Elwing in peace. Peace! She had not been able to fall asleep a wink further that night. But her pride had prevented her from getting up and finding Elros. The next morning she had gone down to breakfast, and Elros had not spoken a word to her. The incident was never mentioned again, and Elros had never come to her for comfort again. Of course. Why should Elros forget such a thing? She should have gotten up and comforted him. Perhaps let him snuggle up next to her and fall asleep, like he used to. Why, oh why did she let slip all her chances at happiness in Sirion? No more chances were left, no more chances...

She woke up several hours later. The fire was long dead, and the cloak had fallen off the chair onto the floor. Elwing stood up and picked up the cloak, tossing it into some corner. The clock said 6:02. Nearly time to greet Earendil. She rebuilt the fire, and made sure that it was burning strongly before she strode up to the top of the tower, all sleep dispelled.

The rain was still falling, but the thunder had long since abated. Disregarding the rain and walking to and fro with no hat, Elwing paced the top of the tower, waiting for Earendil to return. He would probably be soaked.

She looked out through the rain to the East. She could see the sea through the thick curtains of rain, calmer than it had been last night, but still roiling in the strong wind. Suddenly to the southeast she saw a bright, startling beam of white light. The Silmaril? Earendil? What was he doing that way? Did the Valar summon him, without letting her know? Of course. Why should the Valar let her know when Earendil was being summoned? She was _only_ his wife. She had risked her life and the anger of the Valar by jumping off the boat and joining Earendil. The paranoia and loneliness engulfed her, along with the rain. But a sudden noise from behind recalled her.

"Earendil!" There he stood, dripping wet, but with a smile on his face. Behind him Vingelot swung, buffered around by the wind, but strongly anchored to the tower by ropes.

"I thought you had gone to the South!" She gave him a swift hug.

"No, I never went there. I came my usual way. Why?"

"Oh, I saw some light that looked like the Silmaril, and I thought it was you."

"No, not me. Strange. Oh well. Let's go down."

As they walked across the tower's top and down the stairs they talked.

"Did you have any trouble with Vingelot?"

"Yes, I had quite the time maneuvering through the wind. But I have endured worse storms, and so have you."

Yes, she had endured worse storms. Elwing's face fell as she recalled the storms in Sirion, waves threatening to overwhelm the hard labor. Elrond had always come running back to her, burying his face in her lap. But Elros always loved to go outside and play in the rain, oblivious of the lightning that flashed down. Would those times ever return?

Earendil noticed her sudden quiet, and they reached their room in silence. Both Elwing and Earendil were dripping water on the floor. They changed into dry clothes. Elwing took the wet clothes and together they laid them out in front of the fire. They sat there for some time, watching the fire crackle and burn. Elwing wondered when he would announce that he was tired and going to bed. But Earendil did no such thing. He simply stared into the fire. Elwing wondered if the fire reminded him of burning Gondolin, just as it did Sirion for her. Neither noticed the rain pause and finally stop, no more pattering against the windows. Suddenly Earendil spoke.

"Elwing, yesterday…" Elwing's heart sank. She really did not want to talk about it. But Earendil did not seem to notice her aversion to the topic. He continued.

"I think you are stressing yourself out too much. You really shouldn't be staying here alone for the night, and you obviously aren't sleeping as much as you should. Get Melian to stay until Celebrian comes back, or go stay with your kin in Alqualonde, at least. I know you hate Tirion, so I don't expect you to go there. But please, Elwing."

Elwing did not know what to say. Yes, Alqualonde sounded much better than Tirion, as there would indeed be others who had endured the terror of a Kinslaying, but she did not want to leave her little tower, and face the prospect of not seeing Earendil for another two weeks, until Celebrian was to come back. Melian's staying would be nice, but Elwing was reluctant to force Melian to come.

"I'm fine, Earendil. Really. I won't be too lonely." She did not notice the unconscious stress she laid on the word "too". Earendil did, and momentarily stiffened, his eyes sad. But the brief moment passed.

"All right, El. But I want you to at least get some more rest. Stop staying up all night. Promise me."

"Yes, Earendil," Elwing obediently promised.

"Good." Earendil pulled her to him in an embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he put his head on hers. They sat there in silence. Finally Earendil pressed a kiss to her hair and stood up. "Come on, let's eat."

Elwing and Earendil walked down to the kitchen. Earendil quickly prepared some bacon and eggs in a pan, while Elwing set the table.

When they sat down sunlight was breaking through the clouds, lying in stripes on the floor. Elwing pushed open the curtains, letting the sunlight stream down in full force. No more rain fell, and the clouds were slowly breaking up. It promised to be a bright, sunny day.

"I reckon that was the last thunderstorm we'll have 'till next year." Earendil's mariner skills still stood him in good stead. "Unless Osse is further enraged by some silly thing," he added through a mouthful of eggs and bacon.

"Knowing Osse, he probably will be. But I do hope it's the last." Elwing said. Earendil buttered two pieces of bread and handed her one. They continued eating, talking about light matters, the state the flowers were probably in, the weather for the next few days, and the like.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Earendil slept for 6 hours, and the afternoon they spent walking along the cliffs and down to the shoreline. The storm had tossed up many shells and driftwood on the beach. After some time they stopped and rested. Elwing sat on a dry rock while Earendil went looking around the shore. The tide was at its lowest point, and the abundance of rocks helped create a few tidepools. Since it was too far north of Alqualonde no gems littered these shores. But there were many seashells of all sorts scattered around. Earendil found a large white shell, shaped like a bird's wing.

"Here, El." He held out the beautiful seashell to Elwing. It was a smooth white, polished by the waves, and ribbed so that it looked as if it had feathers.

"It's beautiful." Elwing smiled at Earendil. It was, indeed, and Elwing planned to put it on the mantlepiece when they reached home.

"Do you remember when I brought the seashells and tried to give you one?"

"Yes, very much so." Elwing smiled as she recalled the they were very young, Elwing had been shy and wary of everyone. Earendil had tried to be friends with her, and was rebuffed. The seashell was an attempt at friendship. He had been walking along the shore with Voronwe, and had lugged along a bucket, which he had filled with all the seashells he could find, then given to Voronwe to carry. One seashell was a red scallop, and Earendil had liked it very much. The next time he saw Elwing he had tried to give it to her. Elwing had refused and marched away. Earendil had kept on trying, trying to give her the seashell. And Elwing had finally given in and taken the seashell. That was the beginning of their friendship.

"It took me years to win your trust."

"The time you stood up in the middle of Galadriel's speech and asked in front of everyone didn't help, either." Elwing laughed, while Earendil looked confused.

"I did that? I had completely forgotten!"

"Yes, you did. Idril said both of us were as red as beets afterwards."

"Oh, now I remember. You refused and stormed off, leaving me to my fate of ridicule."

"Yes. It wasn't funny to me at the time. Everyone else was laughing their heads off, including Galadriel herself."

"I'll bet. Galadriel had quite the sense of humor."

"I still have the scallop, though I don't know where it's gone."

The sun, now overhead, though still to the south, shone brightly. Very few clouds remained, the storm near forgotten. A few seagulls and an albatross skimmed across the waves and flew up. Elwing began to speak to the birds in their own language. Earendil watched with a mixture of wonder and amusement on his face, as he always did whenever Elwing spoke to birds in his presence.

"_Hello, friends. What brings you here?_"

"_Important news, my lady!_" said the albatross.

"_Yes, it's very important and wonderful!_" chattered the seagulls.

"_What is?_" Elwing asked.

"_Our news, of course!_"

"_Well, what is the news?_" Typical seagulls. They were chattery and expected one to know everything.

"_You don't know?_"

"Of_ course she doesn't know!_" cried the albatross. "_Seagulls,_" he muttered. He puffed up and spoke importantly.

"We_ thought you might like to know, so I flew up here, and these seagulls decided to come along._"

"Yes,_ I know, but what is the message?_" Elwing tried to restrain her laughter.

"So,_ there was a ship. From Middle-earth, my lady. It docked this morning. The ship's passengers include the Lady Galadriel, Gandalf, two hobbits, and Elrond Lord of Rivendell._"

* * *

To be continued...

* Why couldn't an Elf have invented a clock, even if they had good internal clocks? But the time scheme is of our world, I don't know what the Eldar's would have been.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the amazing Tolkien.

So sorry this has taken so long… I have been suffering from a severe case of writer's block…

I ask you to remember that this is from Elwing's perspective, and she is naturally biased towards the sons of Feanor. Her opinions do not necessarily reflect my own.

* * *

"_So, there was a ship. From Middle-earth, my lady. It docked this morning. The ship's passengers include the Lady Galadriel, Gandalf, two hobbits, and Elrond Lord of Rivendell._"

Elwing stared at the albatross. Elrond. The name vibrated and enfolded her, leaving no other thoughts in its wake. Elrond. He was here.

"Elwing? Are you okay?"

Elwing paused in her thoughts as she realized that Earendil did not speak the language of the birds. He did not yet know the news.

"I'm fine. Elrond's here."

Earendil stared at her. At last he found his voice.

"_What?_"

"Yes, the albatross told me."

Earendil looked as if he did not know what to say. His face was a mixture of surprise, happiness, shock, and worry.

"Where is he?"

Elwing turned to the albatross, who had been watching this with an air of amusement. "_Where is Elrond?_"

"_He is on Tol Eressea, my lady._"

Elwing turned to Earendil. "Elrond is in Tol Eressea."

"Oh." Disregarding him for the moment, Elwing picked up the seashell and thanked the albatross, who nodded and flew off, the seagulls reluctantly accompanying him. Elwing turned back to Earendil.

"Well?"

"What are we going to do?"

Elwing stared at Earendil. The truth was, she had no idea what to do. Should they go down to Elrond? Should they wait for him to visit?

"Well, return home, first."

"All right."

They walked south along the beaches to the tower, neither speaking a word. Elwing's thoughts were a jumble of fragments. Which course should they take? Would Elrond come up to them? Would he ignore them? Should they come down? Did Celebrian know yet? Did Idril and Tuor know? Melian? Should Earendil and she send messages to them, telling them that Elrond had come to Aman?

If they were to come down to Tol Eressea, would he - Elwing shuddered when she was thinking this - shut the door in their faces? Refuse to listen? Elros had rejected Earendil's apology. Would Elrond do the same?

A small voice in her mind whispered that Elrond was not Elros. He was more gentle, more forgiving than Elros was. Elrond would at least hear her out, if nothing else. Even if he did not pardon them, he would listen.

But what she had done! She did not deserve forgiveness. She had abandoned Elrond and Elros, leaving them for dead, when she had jumped off that cliff! How could she explain everything to Elrond in a coherent way? Her thoughts and emotions when she had jumped were beyond her skill with words.

But she remembered. Oh yes, that day was forever emblazoned in her memory. No blissful forgetting there was for her. She did not deserve that.

* * *

It had been a day like any other. Sunny, with few clouds in the sky. No hint of what was to come. She had eaten breakfast with the twins, though she had not talked much to them. She had been distant, and had not spoken much to the twins beside curt phrases. Elrond had asked her a question about stars or something and she had only said "Do not bother me now." Oh, if only she could be bothered now! But Elrond had looked at her and seemed to understand, which had been rather uncanny. She had dropped her gaze under the penetrating stare of her son - her son! - and continued eating. Later Elwing had left them and gone to her rooms. That morning had been spent staring at the Silmaril.

And then everything had changed. No warning whatsoever. One moment Elwing was lying on her bed, thinking, the next, a guard was rushing in, shouting that the sons of Feanor were attacking and that Sirion was on fire.

She had rushed to the chest where she kept the Silmaril and taking it, held it close to her. She looked out the window to see smoke, and Elves killing Elves. She saw those who were once her friends falling under the blades of Kinslayers.

She dimly remembered rushing around frantically, having no idea what to do, the Silmaril clutched tightly in her hand. The thought to give up the Silmaril had never crossed her mind yet.

But she recalled her last question, to a guard. "Where are Elrond and Elros?" The guard had answered, shakily.

"They were in the northern tower. They have not been seen since the fight started."

Elwing remembered well her feeling of hopelessness. Earendil was not there to protect them. Her sons were in the northern tower, which, though it wasn't on fire (yet, her morbid thoughts added), had been taken by the followers of the sons of Feanor. They were slowly but steadily making their way to her house. What chance did the remnants of Gondolin and Doriath have against these fully armed and prepared warriors? What chance did she have against Maedhros? What if he used Elrond and Elros as ransom, if he hadn't already killed them?

She fled through the deserted palace to the cliffs. Elwing planned to escape down to the boats and flee for the Isle of Balar.

But it had not happened. As she stood there, thinking out her route, the Silmaril clutched close, she had heard a shout. Elwing had turned. And there below her stood Maedhros, with a few followers, his red hair marking him out.

He stood about fifty feet* away, but he was actually only a few feet below in elevation. And he had seen her, and was looking at her - no, staring at the Silmaril intently. The small band he was with were also staring at her. All their swords dripped with blood. Elwing looked away from the blades and shrank back against the cliff. Only a few feet of wind-swept grass separated her and the edge that fell sharply to the Sea.

She could not hear their voices, as the wind swept away most of the noises, but they plainly were arguing. As she watched suddenly Maedhros drew their attention. He spoke a few words, and then turned towards her. Elwing shrank back even more. One foot between her and the Sea.

Maedhros started walking towards her, his sword still in hand. His followers watched below, staying where they were. Evidently Maedhros planned to come to her alone. Elwing backed up steadily. Scarce inches remained. When he was ten feet away he spoke.

"Please, give me the Silmaril." His voice was more ragged than she had been expecting. More despairing. But she hardened her heart. This Elf had ruined her life. Killed her parents, abandoned her brothers (again, she forgot it was he that searched for the twins), ruined her home, and in all probability murdered her sons. Why should she give up something that her grandparents Beren and Luthien had won at bitter cost?

"No." The single word rang out clearly, louder than she was expecting.

In response, Maedhros took his sword and raised it. Elwing flinched, thinking he would come at her, but instead he flung the sword twenty feet behind him, far away enough for him to not be able to reach it in time. Then he turned back to her.

"Please. Just give me the Silmaril. I am unarmed. I will not kill you."

"No." she said again.

"If you give it to me, I will not hurt you. You will be free."

"No!" She laughed, maniacally. "Give you this? As if you deserve it! You, who killed my parents! Abandoned my brothers!" Maedhros gave a slight flinch, but Elwing did not notice. She continued, taking no breaths. "Ruined my life and murdered my people!" She backed up another step, her heels at the very edge. "You, of all people, have the nerve to ask me for this! When your blade is red with the blood of my people!"

She suddenly stopped, out of breath. During all this, Maedhros had not moved. His short-cut, copper-colored hair was blown about by the wind. She took a deep breath, and was about to speak when he cut across her.

"Please, Elwing, take this burden off of me." A fey thought in her mind flitted across, how did he know her name? Something else in her answered, saying it was the Silmaril. But she looked at him and in his eyes saw utter despair and pain. And a sense that something which was often gone of late had returned, if only for a brief instant.

She opened her mouth. And as she did so she remembered Elrond and Elros. Were they dead? Captured? She would not yield the Silmaril to Maedhros. And as she thought this she noticed something else. More Noldor were congregating around the place. No Sindar or Gondolthrim. That meant that the sons of Feanor had won. Elwing's throat tightened as she realized that all was lost. And with that realization came a sudden thought. She would not surrender.

Elwing realized that that thought had been building up in her, slowly and unconsciously, starting when the guard had told her that they were under attack. She knew what she would do. It was the real reason she had fled here. There was no hope. Even if the remnants of the Sindar and Gondolthrim had won, Morgoth would have come eventually and razed Sirion and the Isle of Balar to the ground. Elwing took a deep breath. No amount of pleading from Maedhros would move her. She had made her decision.

"Please." Maedhros seemed to almost be at breaking point.

She smiled, feyly. She could feel the gaping stares of the Noldor, wondering what she was doing. Nay, why did she care for them? There was no turning back.

"Nay, Kinslayer."

And in one fluid motion she turned and leapt. And as she fell, seemingly to her death, she heard a single anguished cry.

* * *

"Elwing? We're home."

Lost in thought, Elwing had not realized that she and Earendil had reached their home.

"Okay." They entered the tower. Anor was setting now, and on a normal day, they would have been eating a swift dinner and then Earendil would have sailed off towards the Door. But, as Elwing thought wryly, today was not a normal day.

Dinner was a small meal of pumpkin soup and butternut squash, from Celebrian's garden. Afterwards Earendil sat in the middle of the floor and carved a piece of wood, scattering curls of wood all over the floor. Elwing continued to work on Earendil's cloak. Both knew that if they were to go down, they would start in the morning, and it was too late now to start.

Elwing considered the possibilities. Should she and Earendil go to Elrond? Or should they wait for him to come?

If Elwing and Earendil went down to Tol Eressea and met Elrond, how would he react? Would he welcome them and listen to her? Or would Elrond shun them? Elrond was calmer, wiser, and more gentle than the fiery Elros. If Elros was fire, he was water. He was the one to calm Elros when the latter became mad at something. Perhaps Elrond would forgive them. But maybe not.

Perhaps they could send a message to Elrond, and invite him to come up? That was the most likely course. But mayhaps Elrond would not want to leave Tol Eressea, and the company of other Elves. Elwing did not know. She thought this the best course. But who was there to bring the message? The birds? Nay, Elwing knew enough of the birds that they could not always be trusted, and the ones that could were too small to fly the distance. She had heard of doves being used as messengers, but doves did not live this far north. No, that way could not be taken. The letter could not be sent until too late.

If they were to wait at the tower, and give no sign that they knew Elrond was in Valinor, what would he do then? Would Elrond come up to them of his own will? Would Celebrian bring him up someday? No, Elwing shook her head. It would be too awkward for them to give no indication of him and then have Celebrian drag him up, and then what would they say? Elwing knew that she and Earendil could not pretend that they did not know of Elrond's coming. In any case, Elrond was extremely perceptive, even as a young child, and what would his powers be like now? Extraordinary, to say the least. Lying would not go well. Yes, ignoring Elrond would not work. There was already too much strain and misunderstanding for it to take the added weight of ignorance. She and Earendil must go down to Tol Eressea.

But what would she say to him? The neverending question overwhelmed Elwing once more. What had led her to jump?

She had thought that since Elrond and Elros were in the hands of the sons of Feanor, there was nothing she could do. Her people were dispersed or killed. Earendil was gone. There was nothing she could do. Elrond and Elros were in the hands of the sons of Feanor. She had grieved, when she had told Earendil of their capture and possible death. She had not known if they were alive or dead.

It was after she had flown to Vingelot and found Earendil that she had told him of the Third Kinslaying. She remembered well his look of disbelief, horror, sorrow, as she haltingly related the tale to Earendil and the three mariners that were accompanying him, Erellont, Aerandir, and Falathar. She recalled breaking down at his words, "But what of our sons?" and sobbing out that they were captured or dead. He had wrapped her in his arms and comforted her. But amid their sorrow, there was one vicious spark of joy for Elwing - they had not the Silmaril. If her sons were to be lost, then at least the Silmaril was not.

When they had heard that Elrond and Elros were alive - oh, the joy she had felt! Her sacrifice had not, after all, included the lives of her sons. But it had included the loss of many otherwise joyous years spent with them.

The thought had never crossed her mind that she would bring the Silmaril to Earendil, and thus win their way to Valinor and so help rid Middle-earth of Morgoth. She had jumped, to kill herself, and so refuse to be captured by the sons of Feanor or give them the Silmaril. She had thought that the Silmaril would be lost forever in the Sea.

Earendil suddenly stood up, his knife in one hand and the piece of wood in the other, which looked very rough and unfinished to Elwing. He gazed around ruefully at the mess he had made. Chunks and curls of wood lay scattered on the floor around where he had been sitting.

"I should not have done that. I am sorry, Elwing."

"It's fine. I don't care."

"But I don't want you stepping on a splinter in the middle of the night when everyone's gone. Where's the broom?"

Elwing put down the cloak and assisted Earendil in searching. The broom turned out to be in a closet in the dining room. Earendil busily swept the chips of wood into a small pile.

"Elwing, we don't have to go to Tol Eressea or Alqualonde or anywhere. We can stay here and send a message to Elrond. And Celebrian is going to bring him up here anyways."

"I know. But I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"That Elrond's going to shun us. You know. Like Elros."

A spasm of pain crossed Earendil's face. But he mastered it quickly. "Elwing, I don't think Elrond will do that. You've told me about him, that Elrond is not like Elros in the slightest. He will listen. He will forgive us."

Elwing wished fervently that she could believe that. But was Elrond going to forgive 6,504** years of being abandoned by them, for a pretty jewel? In her heart Elwing doubted it. Elrond, though different than his brother in personality, had the same blood. Even more so than usual, as they were twins. Elros was furious after 80*** years. How many years would it take for Elrond to become wholly angry, no mercy left?

"Elwing, I think it best if we send a message to Elrond, and one to Celebrian as well. Why not?"

"How? None of the birds are able or trustworthy enough to do such a thing. You could go, but…"

"But I will not leave you." Earendil finished. "We shall have to go down, then."

Elwing looked at Earendil. Tall, strong, he looked determined, but a little apprehensive. Though he liked to pretend otherwise, Earendil was an open book to Elwing most of the time.

Elwing did not know what to think. This problem was too great for her. She had no idea what to do. A few moments ago, she had had everything mapped out in her head. But now it was lost. No reasoning was left to her. Only what her heart bade her to do.

Elwing looked up at Earendil. "We shall go."

* * *

To be continued...

I intended to end this chapter at a later point, but the flashback to Sirion took more time than I thought it would. I hope you liked this, and please review!

Notes:

*This is in English feet. I do not know the Eldar's system of measurement.

**This is calculated from the Timeline on Tolkien Gateway (which, by the way, I highly recommend). The Third Kinslaying happened in First Age 538, and Morgoth was cast into the Void in 590, 42 years later. The Second Age was 3,441 years long, and the Third Age was 3,021 years long. In that last year Elrond left Middle-earth with Frodo, Galadriel, Gandalf, and Bilbo. Adding these numbers together comes to 6,504 years total of Elrond's life after the Third Kinslaying. I feel that Elwing would have fervently counted each and every one of those years.

*** This number is made up. As far as I know, there is no canonical evidence that Earendil ever went to Elros. It is meant to be during Elros' reign in Numenor.

I should mention that Vingelot is the Sindarin version of Vingilote, Earendil's ship. I strive to use Sindarin names here because Elwing is Sindarin.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to Tolkien.

* * *

Elwing woke up slowly. It was the hour before dawn, and the curtains were wide open, letting the last light of the stars shine through. The house seemed still. She had temporarily forgotten the past days, and her mind was at peace. A lantern set on the table was lit, its gleam throwing rays of fiery light on the floor, like a star in darkness, or the Silmaril shrouded in cloth. Below her, a distant rattle sounded, and she blinked. All of a sudden the memories of yesterday came pouring back. Elrond was in Valinor.

She sat up swiftly. Earendil was nowhere to be seen, but the tousled blankets on his side of the bed indicated that he had spent the night there, instead of traversing the heavens like usual. Elwing got out of bed and dressed, in warm but plain clothes. She did not want to attract attention in Tol Eressea. Barefooted, she padded softly down the kitchen. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted up to her.

Earendil looked up as she arrived. He was cutting some apples with his knife. Elwing could see fresh loaves, wrapped up in cloth, on the counter, and some other food.

"Good morning, El."

"Good morning, Earendil," Elwing responded. She sat down by the fireplace, warming her feet. "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as possible. I wish we could sail Vingelot there, but unfortunately that's not possible, since the Valar have forbidden me from sailing her on trips such as this. We'll take the horses. Hopefully, we'll reach Alqualonde by tomorrow's nightfall, and the next day come to Tol Eressea, and reach the place that night."

"Okay." Elwing was glad that they were riding. She was never at her best while on a ship, and walking would take too much time. Earendil handed a slice of peach cake on a plate to Elwing, and she ate it in silence. Earendil finished packing the food for the journey - bread, apples, cheese, jam, pumpkin rolls, and some Elven water, all good food for a journey. If Elwing was up to making lembas, she would have done so. Even though she did not consider herself the Queen of the Sindar, she still had the power of baking, keeping, and giving lembas. She sometimes baked the Elven waybread, for Earendil on his nightly journey, or Celebrian to sustain her on the trips to Tirion.

They ate breakfast, and soon left the tower. Over in the East, the sky was pale, but as of yet Anor had not yet risen. Earendil shut and locked the door, putting the key in his pocket. At the stables, Earendil and Elwing saddled two horses; Haefaer, a chestnut stallion, and Mithlain, a grey mare. Earendil tied the bags with sturdy knots to the saddles, and they mounted the horses.

They started, riding south. Anor was gleaming over the horizon now, some clouds above tinted gold. As Elwing looked back she saw the tower swiftly receding into the distance. After some time she could not see it anymore.

Earendil and Elwing did not speak much. Earendil seemed busy with his own thoughts, while Elwing watched the great Sea below and the Pelori above. Seagulls flew by, crying out, but Elwing did not speak to any. Anor slowly traveled across the sky.

Elwing wondered what the Valar's reaction to Earendil not sailing last night would be. She hoped they would understand, and not be too mad. But many Elves must have noticed the in all probability extremely conspicuous absence of Earendil. Had Elrond noticed? If so, which was very likely, he probably deduced that Elwing and Earendil were coming to Tol Eressea. Elwing was not sure whether she ought to be joyful or apprehensive at that. Elrond would have knowledge of their coming. Was he blockading the house, trying to prevent them from entering? Or was he lavishly decorating his home in welcome? Elwing gave a small snort. Elrond was not the lavish type, nor was he one to blockade his house. Elrond would probably either leave his house and travel around Tol Eressea trying to evade Earendil and Elwing, or he would be preparing a room, cooking meals, sending messages to Celebrian if she had not already arrived.

They were riding through forests of birch and hemlock. Ferns carpeted the ground on either side of the road. Often they jumped over swift streams, hurrying to the Sea.

At what would be midday for someone in Middle-earth*, they ate lunch beside a stream, drinking of its cold, refreshing water. Chickadees flitted around, begging for some food, and Elwing gave them some, listening to their bright chatter on the small doings of the woods. Earendil watched this, curiosity on his face, as usual.

They started soon afterwards. Yellowing birches cast down soft leaves on them in the breezes. Elwing was reminded of Nimbrethil, the woods of birch near Sirion, which she liked to retreat to often before the marriage. It had been a peaceful place, light streaming down in thick, almost tangible rays, grass covering the ground.

It had been beautiful. Many a happy day she had spent there, distracting herself from the thoughts of the Kinslaying, their troubles, the threat of Morgoth.

She shivered, and tried to distract herself by looking around her. The trees were slowly changing. More and more deciduous trees flashed by as they rode, turning color with the lengthening year. Anor gradually set over the Pelori, casting long and deep shadows on the Eastern side of the mountains.

That night they camped in a clearing, the warmth comforting. Stars twinkled overhead, with occasional wisps of cloud dimming the fainter, more ancient stars. Earendil made a fire, and roasted some meat over it. Elwing watched the red glow light up the maple leaves, gilding the already orange leaves with golden veins. She sat with her back against Mithlain, the warmth comforting. Few words were spoken. They had made a decision and they would follow it.

The next morning she woke early. Dawn was barely come, washing the Eastern sky with fading pink. Earendil was still asleep next to her, and the fire was naught but a few coals, still warm to the touch. Elwing stood up, rousing Earendil, and splashed some cold water, chilly in the morning, on her face from one of the water-bottles. They ate breakfast hurriedly and rode off soon after.

The day warmed as Anor rose. The slopes of the Pelori were lightening, one high cliff after another slowly lightening up and brightening. Elwing and Earendil rode on, a distant, passing, insignificant shadow or breeze underneath these eternal, highest of high mountains.

Elwing thought about how this was such a small matter, of no worth for tale or song. This would earn no telling by firelight to wide-eyed children. Much more important and eventful chapters of the Elves had taken place, and she had helped wrap up the ending of a long story that had begun far away by a lake under starlight alone.

But was the story of the Silmarils ever done? Celebrimbor, the grandson of Feanor, had tried to equal his father, in the making of the Rings. And there were three Rings for the Elves, just as there were three Silmarils. Elwing had heard the entire tale from Celebrian, who had confided that Elrond held one of these Rings. And Sauron had deceived Celebrimbor, and made his own Ring, one to rule all. A slight difference in the tales, but yes, a Dark Lord wanting power over Middle-earth, and lusting after the treasures, Silmarils and Rings.

At lunchtime they stopped in a meadow overlooking the Sea and ate a quick lunch, the horses munching on the grass. They talked about light matters, whether Celebrian was going to be there or not. Earendil was of the opinion that she was already, but Elwing was not sure. It was some distance between Tol Eressea and Tirion, and there was the crossing between Tol Eressea and the mainland of Valinor, although she was unsure how long that would be.

After an hour the two set out again. They had made good timing so far, and Earendil reckoned that they would reach Alqualonde before dusk. The Elven-horses were swift and nearly tireless. Elwing watched the neverending eastern horizon. Somewhere that way, the Gates of Morning rose. Earendil had said that he saw them once, from the deck of Vingelot, hovering far above Middle-earth. They seemed to be made of stone, were tall, perpetually lit with golden light, and astonishingly huge. But Earendil had never seen Arien pass through them - the sight must be amazing, Elwing thought.

Pinewoods marched on the slopes of the Pelori, gradually giving way to deciduous forests, of maples and oaks. On the tallest slopes grew birch, hemlock, and fir. More than once the horses stepped or jumped over a stream. The woods were yellow, russet, orange, scarlet, gold, but as they neared the Girdle of Arda Elwing noticed that it grew more and more green, summer still. Many birds chirped and sang in the branches. Occasionally Elwing spotted a deer or perhaps a rabbit, staring at them and the horses, galloping South.

The horses flew over grassy meadows, flowering with asters and goldenrod. Poppies flourished in these meadows, and once, Earendil, with Haefaer still galloping, bent down and picked some poppies, tossing them to Elwing. The meadows slowly sloped down, turning into sand and then into water. They passed by the dunes of sand, the sea grass shimmering in the wind. They thundered over the beaches, shores beginning to sparkle with opals and pearls.

Anor was overhead, and evening was coming on, when they started to pass scattered houses, settlements. Children stared at them, flashing by in the light. The houses grew more multitudinous.

They rounded a turn, and suddenly Alqualonde lay before them. The silver and white city shone in the bright light, but it was still several miles away. Beyond the buildings the great arch of the harbor could be seen. Since the end of the First Age, more and more Elves had been pouring in, and some built more houses, outside of the harbor. A few white ships were passing into the harbor, coming home from a voyage at Sea.

"We made good time." Earendil was pleased. "We should be there in half an hour."

"Good," Elwing replied. "Where are we staying?"

Earendil looked at her, confused. "With your kin, at the palace, I thought."

Elwing shook her head. "No, not with them. Let's just find a small inn and stay there for the night. Outside the city." She did not want to be recognized.

"But there are going to be few inns not in Alqualonde that are close enough."

"Fine. But let's not spend too much time with others."

Earendil nodded, acquiescently. "Okay. Let's go then." He spurred his horse and Elwing followed.

Very shortly they were at the gates of the city. The guards there - the Lindar had been a bit paranoid ever since the Kinslaying and the Great Armament of the Numenorians - did not seem to notice them. Elves were flooding in and out. As they trotted through the city, looking for an inn, Elwing marveled as she always did at the friendliness and loudness of Alqualonde, in contrast to the quiet streets of Tirion. Even though these Elves were of the same kindred; Teleri, they were much noisier and outgoing than the Sindar in Middle-earth had been. Perhaps it was due to the heavy tragedies of the Kinslaying of Menegroth and the Fall of Gondolin, that had so burdened her people and herself.

Earendil nudged her arm. "Elwing, what about there?" Elwing looked and saw a small but decent inn, with the name of "The White Sails." Stables could be seen behind it.

"Looks all right."

They walked the horses to the door, and Earendil knocked. Almost immediately it was opened by a young elleth, just past her majority. "Hello," the elleth said, looking at the two. "Do you want a room?"

"Yes, please, and stabling for two horses as well."

"Okay." The elleth turned and yelled something behind her. Within a few moments an ellon poked his head out. "Stable the horses, please, Narorn." The ellon nodded, and took the horses into the stable. "Follow me," the elleth said.

Earendil and Elwing followed the elleth in. The elleth picked up a weighty tome and opened it. She then picked up a quill and looked importantly at the two. "What are your names, please?"

Elwing felt a sinking dread. The girl would surely know their names, and all would be lost. But then she heard Earendil speaking. "My name is Ardamire, and this is my wife."

Yes! Elwing felt a lightening of spirit. Earendil had had the sense to give the elleth his mother-name, instead of the more-common father-name.

"All right." The elleth was speaking. "I'll lead you up to your room now, if you please." They followed her up a stairway and so into a small white room, cozily decorated. "Does this suffice?" As Earendil assured her that it did, Elwing, slipping her pack off and onto the bed, sat down in a rocking chair. She dimly heard the elleth saying that she would bring up dinner and Elwing vaguely noticed her leaving.

"Well, Elwing?" asked Earendil, sitting down on the bed.

"The inn is nice, and I like it. As for Alqualonde, it's much larger, but the spirit is the same as last time." Elwing was referring to when she had been waiting for Earendil that fated day so long ago and some Lindar had befriended her. Alqualonde was so different from Tirion. No stares nor whispers behind her back here. In Alqualonde, if someone were to recognize her as Elwing, the whole street would start trying to talk to her and ask her thousands of questions. Elwing did not really like this, but she would prefer it to the malignant whispers and rumors that would circulate about her in Tirion.

Earendil nodded, and they talked quietly, comparing the city now to the past. Soon the elleth came in, bearing food, and they ate hungrily.

Afterwards Earendil went to see the horses and gain some information, and Elwing stayed behind. The room was small and cozy, with a vase of poppies on the wooden table. The bed was soft, with white comforters. She wandered aimlessly around the room.

If all went well, within one day, she would see Elrond. After thousands of years of separation. How would the reunion go? Elwing was nervous, she knew that. Was Earendil? Probably. What about Elrond himself? Was he apprehensive of this meeting? Elwing was not - could not - be sure of what he thought. He almost certainly knew of their coming. What were his thoughts now?

Elwing flopped down on the bed. Anor was sinking behind the Pelori now and the shadows were deepening and lengthening. In the gathering darkness she continued to think. What was their plan? She knew that tomorrow she and Earendil would come to Tol Eressea by the daily ferry. And afterwards - what? She did not know where Elrond even was! They could ask around, but that would only draw unwanted attention. A chilling thought suddenly struck her. What if Elrond wasn't even in Tol Eressea? In the time it had taken for her and Earendil to travel down here, he could have already gone to Tirion, and perhaps beyond, into Valinor! And she did not want to have to search for him there. It would take too much time to search for him in the wide expanse of Valinor. And she hated Tirion. A city mostly full of Kinslayers. And the mutters behind her back - no! She would never return to Tirion.

A soft knock on the door aroused her. "Come in," she called. The elleth from earlier was standing there, holding a candle in a bronze holder, its rays flickering about the room, adding a wholesome, fiery glow. Somehow, unlike the Silmarils.

"Do you want some light, ma'am?"

Of course she wanted light, thirsted for it! What would she be without light? "Yes, please," Elwing said. The elleth set the yellow candle upon the table.

"Do you want more candles?"

"No, this should be fine. Thank you." The elleth nodded and went out, closing the door behind her. Elwing sat on the bed, hugging herself and gazing at the candle. This was something good. Fire. Warming chilled hands. Cooking delicious food. Giving light. Oh, the Silmarils were holy, and their light was pure and radiant, but this was nice too. If only for a change. No more fear, for now.

Earendil came in and shut the door behind him. Elwing looked up at him. Earendil flopped on the bed, stretching out tired muscles. "The horses are stabled well. This is a good inn." Elwing had to agree. But she had questions.

"What about tomorrow? What's the plan?"

"Ah. A ferry goes to Tol Eressea at 10:30 tomorrow morning. We can take that, with Haefaer and Mithlain. The ferry should arrive at Tol Eressea at around 11:30, and then we shall go find Elrond." Earendil sounded absolutely positive, yet his buoyancy did not alleviate Elwing's fears.

* * *

The next morning Elwing woke to light streaming in through the window. She looked around the room and saw two plates laden with food on the table. Earendil was already up, pulling on a tunic. He noticed she was awake and kissed her. "The elleth brought us breakfast," he said, gesturing to the food. Elwing nodded.

Breakfast was soon finished, and paying the elleth, they exited the inn. The ellon, Narorn, led Haefaer and Mithlain to them, and Earendil and Elwing mounted and left. They quickly passed through the already bustling city and exited via the gate, along with many others.

It was two hours later when they came to a little village on the shores, Calmalonde, which was named for its many lamps. This was where the Numenorians had landed. Those descendants of Elros. Descendants of _her._

They found a little office which sold tickets for the ferry, and Earendil bought two. The ferry was not due to start for another hour, so they rode to the beach. On the horizon Tol Eressea could be seen, blue in the distance.

Elwing gazed into the waves, wondering about Elrond. What if he did not expect their coming? Even if he had noticed the absence of the Silmaril these past two nights what if he did not think that they were coming to him? Perhaps it would be better that way. Elrond would not disappear randomly, and Earendil and Elwing would see his reaction. She smiled at the thought of total surprise on his face. It would be funny, to a point, and Elrond would not have a chance to escape.

Earendil touched her shoulder. "It's time to go." She rose and they mounted the horses and rode back to the landing dock, where the ferry was moored. It was medium-sized, and painted white and green. Elves were boarding. The horses were being loaded through another door, and Earendil handed Haefaer and Mithlain to the stable-Elf, and he and Elwing boarded the ship.

As the ferry moved away from the pier and started to cross the channel Elwing looked at the receding shore and felt as if something in her was slipping away, going, vanishing. It was an odd feeling, and she shook herself and looked away from the shore. Earendil was standing, with an expression of happiness on his face. He was in his element. As the ferry began to rock and sway with the waves Elwing shivered and sat down. She did not like boats. Cold, creaky, no comfort.

The crossing was relatively smooth and fast, and before she knew it the ferry was being moored alongside a dock, and the Elves were coming off the ship. Elwing roused herself and followed Earendil off. He handed their tickets to the steward-Elf and bidding Elwing wait for him, got the horses.

This was the first time Elwing had been on Tol Eressea. It was green, with woods and fields, and the slopes gradually led up to a single point. But it was somehow different from Valinor. It had a different feel. More like… Sirion. More Sindarin. How many years had it been since she had last set foot on a land besides Aman? Not since the Kinslaying.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, she heard the word "Earendil". She stiffened and glanced at Earendil, whose face was set firmly, but she could still see fear in his eyes at the possibility of being recognized. She turned and found the speaker, a old Elf, talking to a small crowd.

"Yes, the star Earendil has been missing for three nights now. No one has any idea why. Could be a command from Manwe."

She turned. Elwing did not want to hear any more. A thought crossed her mind and she whispered into Earendil's ear.

"Earendil, how are we going to find Elrond?"

"Oh, yes." Earendil turned to an Elf, standing at the pier as if waiting for someone.

"Do you know where Elrond is?"

Elwing inwardly groaned. A nice way to phrase the question - and announce their presence. But the Elf did not seem to be surprised by the question.

"I heard that he's still in Avallone, over on the eastern side of the island."

"How do you get there?"

"Just follow the signs. Go along the main road East, and then when you reach Kortirion turn southeast and you should reach Avallone by around 10:00 tonight if you have swift horses."

Earendil thanked the Elf and came back to Elwing. "Well, so now we know. Shall we eat lunch, first?"

Elwing agreed, as she was hungry, and they ate at a small restaurant in the village. After they finished, with some extra food for the journey, they mounted the horses and started off. It was not hard to find the main road, and they traveled along it, soon leaving the businesses and stores behind, and eventually most of the houses.

Shortly after they had left the village they came to a large house, between the road they were on and another road that came from the South. This in itself was not so unusual. But the house had chimneys. Many, many chimneys. Elwing and Earendil found themselves staring at it. The house was large and graceful in its own way, but the chimneys were another story. There were all sorts of chimneys, brick, stone, pipes. There was no way that this was simply Elvish. It looked to have a distinct Mannish - and even Dwarvish - influence. Elwing said so to Earendil, and he agreed.

They continued on. An hour after the ferry crossing they passed another town, crossing a bridge, under which two streams joined. No one seemed to pay much attention to them. It was common for Elves to ride on the many roads of Tol Eressea, exploring the many hidden dells and mysterious paths.

The houses were not so frequent as they had been earlier. More and more trees grew alongside the road. They were leaving the meadows and fields.

It grew quieter, with the only noises the birds, insects, and behind the distant rumbling of the Sea, but Elwing could still see it and Taniquetil behind. It was a little strange, being in the shadow of the Mountain. Taniquetil was so tall, so large that it completely dominated one's vision when they looked West. But it was comforting, despite its majesty.

They were going much slower than they had been the past two days, or so it felt to Elwing. This was new, somewhere she and Earendil had never set foot. When they had come to Aman so long ago, Earendil had passed by Tol Eressea and landed north of the island, towards Alqualonde. There had been few or no Elves on the Island then. Now - the Island was decently populated, mostly by those of Sindarin or Silvian descent, with the majority of the Noldor going on to Tirion.

It was afternoon, around 1:30, or so Earendil reckoned it. The light was steadily growing brighter as Anor drew nearer to the Blessed Realm. Trees, mostly elm, were shading the road, blocking much of the harsher light. Here, at the Girdle of Arda, no changing of color took place like farther north. Green was the predominant color. Elwing liked the quietness. Crickets chirped, and birds sang. Frequently another small road snaked off the main road, going to some house or perhaps a small village. They did not meet many people, a few children and a rider or two, nodding at them in greeting.

When they came to Kortirion Elwing was surprised. She had imagined it as some large, bustling city. But instead it was a town, really, with markets and houses. Further along the road another path led off, to a circle of elms, ringing around a house. That was the highest point in Tol Eressea, or so a friendly elleth informed them. A sign pointed the way to Avallone, and Elwing and Earendil directed the horses that way.

This road, going southeast, was much busier, both ways. They passed multiple walking parties and a few riders could be perpetually seen far ahead, traveling southeast as well. Elwing and Earendil speeded up their pace.

Elwing was starting to feel seriously nervous now. Within a few hours she would at last see Elrond. If it went her way, Elrond would be surprised at their coming, but happy, and she could explain everything without interruption or others in the way - or better yet, Elrond completely understand and Elwing not having to explain anything. Just go back to the way it was before.

But no! Not the way it was before! There had been too many silences, not enough trust. And Earendil had been perpetually gone. Elwing did not want to be facing that despair that she had succumbed to in Sirion. Nay, this time, she would put up a fight.

Elwing was not sure herself what exactly she felt at this. Nervousness, definitely. Joy? Peace? She did not know. She supposed she ought to feel joyful, but what if Elrond did not accept their apologies? Elwing suddenly realized that yes, she was frightened.

Anor had passed over their heads some time ago, and was now setting beyond the Pelori. If they had been home, it would have been dusk already. But here light still streamed through the Calacirya and touched the Lonely Isle. Tol Eressea was still warm and bright. Sunlight slanted low onto the road.

They continued. The light was gradually dimming, and Elwing looked to the West, seeing a shard of Anor peeking above the horizon, before it was gone. Slowly, starlight took its place. More and more houses were on the sides of the road, warm, homely light spilling out from the windows.

Elwing was tired now. Three days of riding, two extremely hard and fast, was weary on the less strong and tireless Elves. Mannish blood did not exactly help, either. Her muscles were beginning to ache. Mithlain was going smoothly now, sensing her mistress's discomfort.

Suddenly they came upon the crest of a hill. The elms rustled in the breeze, a tinge of salt on the air. The road slanted away beneath them, winding down through orchards to a harbor of the Sea, lights twinkling far away.

To be continued...

* * *

And there it pauses! It was getting out of hand (especially the descriptions) so I decided to end it there.

So, not much happening, besides the long journey! Originally I wrote the trip as two days, stopping in Alqualonde overnight, but I decided to change it to three. Pardon me if my sense of distance here is totally skewed. But Elven-horses are very, very fast.

Please tell me what you think! Were the descriptions too lengthy? Was this too much of a "filler" chapter?

Notes:

* This is in reference to a quote from one of the History of Middle-earth volumes; "But days are otherwise in Valinor than in Middle-earth. For there the time of greatest light is Evening." - Ambarkanta, _The Shaping of Middle-earth_, page 290, Del Rey version


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Tolkien's.

* * *

Avallone lay before them, twinkling in the starry night. Elwing sucked in a breath. That was where Elrond was. Somewhere, in one of those houses, he had taken up residence in. What was he doing right now? Reading? Eating? Expecting them with a full dinner? She rather hoped the last, as she was hungry.

"Come on, let's go," said Earendil. They trotted down the hill. The Sea drew nearer. Harvest was here, and the evidence could be seen in the orchards that bordered the road, ladders and baskets left overnight. Light often spilled from some home onto the road, warm and comforting.

They had almost entered into the city when Elwing suddenly stopped. Earendil stopped Haefaer and turned. He looked at her, and Elwing saw that he understood, and indeed felt the same way.

"But where is he?" The words spilled out of her mouth, the first either of them had spoken since Kortirion.

"I don't know. Let's go around the city a bit, then if we can't find him, we'll find an inn. We can ask someone."

Elwing nodded. But that did not seem adequate enough for her. How could she tell if something had to do with Elrond? But she followed after Earendil.

They entered the city. No gates barred their road, there were no walls blocking the way. The houses, especially the newer ones, were of a style Elwing had never seen before. It seemed to be Elvish, mostly in the Sindarin-style roofs, with Noldorin arches, but there was a definite Edain influence. Probably Numenorean. Elwing almost could not grasp the fact that Elros, her son, had probably contributed to this. Elros had always been somewhat of an architect. In Sirion he had loved building sand castles, enlisting Elrond's help. She recalled one happy afternoon, when she, for once, had given in to Elros' pleas and helped the twins build a sand castle. It had been huge, with a moat, a drawbridge made by Elros out of driftwood, steps, and two towers. Until the Sea had washed it away in the next tide. Elwing had been unable to comfort Elros at the "death" of his castle. She had felt that the castle was like Sirion, as if the Sea would someday readily sweep away Sirion in a flood, despite the fact that Sirion sat on a cliff. But if only if she had spent more days like that, playing with her sons. Time lost, never to be regained.

Earendil and Elwing trotted along the streets, looking for a sign of Elrond. But as far as Elwing could tell, there was nothing that even slightly indicated that Elrond was in this city.

She began to feel panicky. What if Elrond was not even in Avallone? She had seen that Tol Eressea was large, and Elrond could be anywhere in Tol Eressea. He could even be in Valinor by this point, and how long would it take to search the whole of Aman? Elwing felt as if nothing worked. There was no way it could work. No way they would find Elrond in time. Of course. She had been cursed, cursed by Kinslayers, for taking away a jewel. Elwing wished she could fly away and not worry about anything anymore, but she had not brought her wings. At least she had never gone to Mandos. There would be nothing there to stave off the memories.

Trying to shake off the despairing thoughts, she looked around her. It was late, and few Elves were out and about. The city was quiet, but occasionally Elwing could hear chatter drifting from a window, or horses neighing in some stable. And of course, the everlasting sound of the Sea behind.

Earendil and Elwing rode through the city. They went through a few marketplaces, now empty, and passed by the docks, where boats and small ships were moored. Further out she could see the larger ships, looking like misty clouds floating in the night sky, lit by the stars.

They came to the outskirts of Avallone on the western side. With a sinking heart Elwing realized that they were close to where they had entered the city. Somehow they had ended up turning completely around. Here the houses were spaced further apart.

Suddenly she paused. Earendil had stopped right in front of her, looking at something.

"Earendil?"

He swiftly turned, his finger to his lips, then pointed ahead.

Just ahead of them was a small courtyard, with a few trees growing inside a small lawn of grass. Stars were brightly shining, silver light softly lighting up the courtyard. A few benches were situated in it.

But what really got Elwing's attention was the figure standing in the middle, gazing up at the stars. She would have thought it a child due to its shortness, if it were not for its stance. It was not the stance of a child in the least. It looked tired, with weariness and pain, yet something about it suggested a triumph and final peace.

Earendil and Elwing were paused, waiting on the edge of the courtyard. The figure did not see them, or if it did, took no notice. Elwing was unsure what to do. Continue on their way? This figure - Elwing was not certain if it were an Elf - could just be an innocent bystander, having nothing to do with Elrond. But she thought not. Anything unusual - which this person certainly was - could have something to do with Elrond.

The figure suddenly moved, and walked up to one of the houses. It opened the door, letting light spread onto the steps, and walked in. By the light, Elwing could see that it had curly hair. The figure closed the door behind it, the light vanishing. But somehow, hope had sprung with the light pouring out, and it had not disappeared yet from Elwing's heart.

Earendil looked at Elwing, his eyebrows raised. Elwing gave a short nod. Yes, it was worth a chance. Or so she thought, for a moment.

They dismounted the horses, and Earendil stepped up to the door and knocked once, then stepped back, next to Elwing. They waited.

Her heart was hammering. She began to doubt the decision. What if they had been sidetracked by an unusual-looking Elf? What if this was not Elrond's house? Elwing's breath came in short, quick gasps. She reached out to Earendil, who put his arm around her in comfort. But he did not seem to be that confident, either.

Without warning, the door flew open. Elwing's heart jumped into her mouth. But standing there was an elleth whom Elwing had never seen before.

"Hello," the elleth said. "How may I help you?"

Elwing could not speak. They had come to the wrong house, after all. It was all a mistake. They should not have come. But Earendil was speaking.

"Does Elrond live here?"

It seemed an eternity before the elleth answered.

"Indeed he does. Do you wish to meet him?"

Elwing's knees went weak with sudden relief, that was swiftly replaced by a sudden nervousness.

"We do, if he is available," said Earendil.

The elleth smiled. "Lord Elrond is reading right now. I can take you to him. Will you step in?"

Earendil nodded, and swiftly spoke a few words to the horses, bidding them stay. As with all Elven horses, Haefaer and Mithlain understood the words and knew that they were to wait.

"Wait here, please," The elleth disappeared through a door.

Elwing stole a glance at Earendil. His face was set firmly, but his eyes betrayed him. They were wide with apprehension. There was no sign of the short person.

She tried glancing around their surroundings. They were in a medium-sized room, with pale grey-purple walls. Two couches and an armchair surrounded a burning fire. Elwing stepped closer to it and Earendil followed her, warming themselves. Two windows on the eastern side looked into another shadowy courtyard, but not much could be seen through the night. There were a few bookcases, but they were mostly empty. Whoever lived here had not lived long enough to amass a lot of books. A few ornaments were set around the room. Earendil was looking scrutinizingly over the carving of a delicate ship.

From behind she felt someone looking at her, and turned.

He was standing in the doorway. He was taller, his shoulders broader, his face sadder and wiser. Yet his grey eyes were the same, thoughtful and quiet. Elrond. Her son.

But he was so different! A ner, no longer a young ellon. He was grown, and had been laden with his own cares and worries. He had been in wars. Ruled Elves. Saved lives. And he had children of his own. He was no longer that young ellon who had played on the seashore in Sirion.

Next to her she felt Earendil swiftly turn and look at Elrond. There was silence. Elwing felt as if she ought to say something, but she had no idea what.

She tried to say "I'm sorry." But the words would not come. It was as if something were blocking her.

They remained there, standing, for some time. Earendil next to her shifted uncomfortably. No one spoke. Elwing started to feel angry. This moment was supposed to be perfect! The first meeting in ages. But there was too much to say. Too much lay between them, a boundless gulf of misery and loneliness. She could not stand this silence. Why did she think this a good idea?

She tried to smile, but it felt weak and forced on her face, and she spread her hands. "We're here."

Elrond still said nothing. Elwing gazed into his eyes, trying to decipher what lay in those depths. They were deep, underneath the surface they were sorrowful and weary. But now they were hard.

She glanced at Earendil. He seemed to want to break the silence, but he looked as if he had no idea how to, or what to say.

At last Elrond spoke. "Naneth," he said, stiffly. Elwing felt a tightening about her heart. There were wounds that could never be healed, she realized. Again, she wondered why she had thought this a good idea.

She crossed the room over to Elrond and hugged him. For the first time in ages. She tried to pour her love and to make him understand in that hug, to cross the wide division. Perhaps it had an effect, for when she pulled away at last his eyes were softer.

Then Earendil gave Elrond a hug as well. It was shorter than Elwing's hug had been.

Elrond spoke. "Are you hungry?"

Earendil glanced at Elwing, and seeing her nod, answered "Yes".

Elrond nodded, then rang a bell. The elleth entered, looking curiously at them, and quietly received his order of a meal for three. Earendil also asked her if she could stable the horses. The elleth replied that her brother would see to them. She left through another door, but the atmosphere was still the same.

There was silence. No one could bring themselves to speak, it seemed. Elwing noticed Elrond's eyes scanning her face, assessing, remembering.

She recalled how Elrond had looked as a child. Small, thoughtful. This tall Elf standing in front of her was someone else, or so it felt. She had lost him.

Suddenly the door opened, and the elleth from before appeared. She was carrying a tray with food and drink. Elwing found herself eyeing it hungrily. The elleth set it down on the table, and Elrond spoke a few quick words to her, then she disappeared through the doorway. Just before it closed Elwing noticed another elleth and an ellon, looking curiously through the door at them.

Elrond gestured at the couches, and Earendil and Elwing seated themselves. Elrond sat down in the armchair. Elrond told them quietly that they could serve themselves, and Earendil and Elwing did so. The food was delicious, but Elwing felt as if she were eating cram, instead of lembas. It was tasteless in her mouth. Still, no one spoke. The meal was eaten quickly and quietly.

Finally when they had finished, Elrond stood up. He rang the bell again and the elleth entered.

"Elthinn, please take the guests to their room."

Elthinn dipped her head and beckoned Earendil and Elwing along a hallway. Looking back, Elwing glanced at Elrond's face. He was motionless, staring back at her. And she thought she saw pain in his eyes.

With dread she remembered that Elrond had called them "guests". Not parents, not mother and father.

The elleth showed them their room upstairs. Neither of them spoke. Earendil sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. Elwing remained standing, trying to decipher what went wrong.

Despite her worries and fears, she had not been properly prepared for such an event. She was not prepared for the initial meeting, nor for the strain of trying to talk. She had not planned out everything, and had been too presumptuous. Elwing had thought that there were just a few situations - instant reconciliation, or a fight of some sort. Not this awful, terrible silence and awkwardness.

She had not taken her pride into consideration. Nor the pride she should have known had passed to her son. And Earendil's Noldo blood did not help.

Elrond was too different. He had spent way too many years apart. Letting wounds fester, not heal.

What about Celebrian? The thought suddenly flashed across her mind. Celebrian could help solve this problem, with her cheerfulness and gentleness. She could help bridge the gap.

But no. Elwing knew that it would not be a full reconciliation. If they were to heal and become family once more, then they must be able to do it without Celebrian.

Elwing had hurt Elrond too deeply. Leaving him and his brother to death at the hands of the sons of Feanor. Who in their right mind would have done such a thing?

But Elwing did not think that at that time she had had a right mind.

A new thought came to her, and she stiffened.

What if Elrond had had his own plan? What if he had intended to go up to the tower, or meet them in Alqualonde? What if - Elwing shuddered - he had planned not to meet them, simply avoid them? And Earendil and Elwing's coming could have wholly wrecked it all. They had not given him time enough to prepare to face them.

Time? She and Earendil had given Elrond plenty of time to think about what they had done. If anything, too much time.

This had gone all wrong. Nothing was right. Earendil and she should not have come to Tol Eressea. They should have stayed in the tower and instead sent a message. Confronting these feelings so early was the wrong idea.

Elwing looked at Earendil. She could not see his face, but she could sense his distress. She sank down on the bed beside him. He turned and wrapped his arms around her.

She could not think anymore. Elrond was someone else. Not her son. He was too distant and cold. He did not love her anymore.

* * *

The next morning Elwing awoke early. For a moment she lay there, calm in the peace. Anor shining through the window showed that it was early yet.

But then she remembered.

Elrond had rejected them.

But no! There was never an outright rejection. He had let them stay overnight, even if it was as his guests. And she had never gotten a chance to explain everything, either. Today, she would explain, and apologize. She would make things work.

Fired with new zeal she leaped up, grabbed a brush, and began to comb her hair vigorously. She would not go down without an explanation at the very least.

Earendil was still asleep. Elwing dressed quickly and washed her face in cold water from a pitcher, drying it with a soft towel. Her long brown hair streamed down her back. She did not bother pinning it back or braiding it. Her feet were bare.

She softly stole out of the room, trying to not wake Earendil, and found herself in the hallway. She walked along the hallway, and rounded a turn. Here was the stairway that they had ascended last night, but Elwing did not heed it. Tentatively she knocked on one of the doors. No response. She opened the door and found herself in a large room.

This room was painted green, with a fireplace, a dining table, couches, and bookshelves. Unlike the ones downstairs, these bookshelves had many more books. This was more comfortable, perhaps Elrond's private room. Much more friendly. But the most noticeable part of this room were the wide windows. As Elwing walked over to them she noticed that they could be opened, like doors, onto a balcony.

She opened the window without much difficulty and stepped through. She was standing on a wooden balcony, that overlooked a garden. Further off a few houses were scattered. And beyond all this Elwing could see the Sea. She was facing West. It was early morning yet. Taniquetil rose in the distance, huge and tall.

She walked along the balcony, her hair floating behind her in the wind. Elwing came to the southern side of the house, and found herself looking at Avallone. Anor shone down on her from her left. The port city was beginning to stir. Far off a few ships were putting out to sea. Laughter floated up to her and Elwing noticed a small elleth run along a street below her, trying to keep up with her big brother. Elwing found herself smiling as the ellon ran slowly, letting his sister catch up. When she reached him the ellon picked her up and swung her around. The elleth shrieked with laughter. It reminded Elwing of something, but she could not figure it out.

And suddenly it came to her. Dior. Her father swinging her around in his arms in the fields and glades of Doriath. She, giggling with delight. Her mother, Nimloth, looking on with a smile on her face. Elured and Elurin, wanting their turn.

She looked away. Her previous good mood was gone. Why had she come out here? Earendil was probably wondering where she was. Elwing turned and was about to start walking back to the doors when she noticed a figure walking towards her, its head bowed, a book in its hands. Elrond.

He had not noticed her, yet. He seemed to be reading the book as he walked, but Elwing noticed that his eyes did not move back and forth as they would normally when reading. His shoulders were hunched, weariness and sorrow set on them. Elwing found herself wishing she could take the load off. How?

But indeed, she realized, there was a way that she could do that. Apologize. Explain.

This was it. This was her chance to make things right. Elwing took a deep breath and walked steadily towards Elrond.

* * *

To be continued…

I had a lot of trouble writing this. I also am afraid that Elrond is out of character. I wanted him like this because Elrond and Elros have indeed been forgotten by Elwing and Earendil. Elrond is not a pushover, he does have some fire in his spirit. Even though he is not Elros and therefore is not about to start yelling at Earendil and Elwing, he still will not forgive at first sight in 6,000 years. What are your thoughts on that?

I also got the most marvelous idea for this... but I'm not telling you what it is yet!

By the way, please vote on the poll on my profile page! I won't know who you are, so thanks in advance!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: To my own sorrow, I don't own anything.

* * *

Elwing walked towards Elrond. Her bare feet pattered against the wood of the balcony, warmed by the sun.

His head snapped up as she approached. Elrond looked at her, his face completely blank. Elwing knew that she needed to apologize and explain everything now. There could never be another chance, and it was probably better to do this now rather than later.

"Elrond." She hesitated, and then decided to just go on and worry about what consequences there may be later. "I'm sorry about the Silmaril and the Kinslaying and Maglor and everything and I wish I spent more time with you and Elros and actually paid attention to you and cared for you…" Her voice threatened to break, but she recovered and continued. "I was a horrible mother and I wish I hadn't wasted all that time staring at the Silmaril instead of playing with the two of you." Tears began to sting her eyes. "I should have been more attentive and loving. I am really sorry. Please, Elrond, forgive me."

During all this Elrond's face had been a mask. But now, he bent his head. Then, seeming to gather his strength, he looked back up. His face was filled with pain.

"Nana," he said, and Elwing felt her heart wrench at the use of the tender word. "I am sorry."

This took her completely by surprise, and she stared at him. But then she found her voice. "It's not your fault. It was me. My fault. Please, Elrond."

"Nay, Nana. I was too cold last night. I should have been more open. I was surprised and shocked, and I let it get a hold of me."

Elwing almost could not believe what she was hearing. Elrond… apologizing? No, it was she who should be apologizing. It was her fault.

"And I let my pride get hold of me. I should have forgiven you," he finished.

"Elrond, do… do you forgive me?"

A pause.

"I forgive you."

She flew at him and hugged him. And he hugged her back. Her son.

After some time they broke apart. Elrond looked happier than she had seen him so far, yet something about him still suggested strain and worry.

"I would beg your forgiveness as well, but you do not know everything." Elwing felt worried. What was this? She did know about Elros' decision, but perhaps Elrond did not realize that. Hopefully that was it.

"You need to know everything as well," she found herself saying.

"Then let us not do so here," Elrond responded.

They entered the green room where Elwing had passed through to the balcony. A pot of tea was now waiting on the small table by the couches, in front of the fireplace, in which a small fire was lit. Elrond gestured for Elwing to sit in one and she did so. Elrond took the tea and poured some into a cup, handing it to Elwing. She took a sip of her tea. It warmed her down to her toes. Elrond also poured himself a cup.

"How was your journey?" asked Elrond.

"It was okay."

"How did you know I was here?"

"The birds told me, an albatross and some seagulls."

"So you can actually speak to birds?"

"Yes." Elwing felt a little self-conscious. Celebrian had been like this as well, intensely curious about Elwing's ability to speak with the birds. Celebrian had asked many questions and wanted to know how Elwing had figured out their language. Elwing herself was unsure - she just had spent so much time among the birds and flying with them, that it just came quite naturally. It almost felt as if she had known the language of the birds for forever. Perhaps she had started learning in Sirion, even.

Elrond nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

He looked back up at her, and Elwing felt rather nervous. This was the time to explain now. She was partly afraid of having to live it through again, and partly afraid of Elrond's reaction to all this. What would he think? That she was to be pitied? Insane? Delusional? Though Elwing was not of the Noldor, she was proud nonetheless. She did not want pity. Elwing was much more different than her parents, who were gentle and wise. Elwing did not consider herself gentle. It had been said in Sirion that Earendil and she had been switched in personality, almost. She, the stubborn Sinda, was more like a granddaughter of Turgon, renowned for his stubbornness, than Earendil himself was. Earendil was much gentler and much less stubborn than Elwing.

Elrond regained her attention by stirring the fire. Yet an awkward silence still rested between them, though more comfortable than it had been last night. Elwing looked at Elrond, studying him closely. His dark hair was the same it had been in Sirion, though a few inches longer, ending just below his shoulders. His face was older, wiser, more thoughtful and sadder than it had been in Sirion. The memories that Elwing could perceive in his eyes were far deeper. Much more sorrow and joy lay in those grey depths. He looked venerable, wise, strong, kind. A mighty Elf-lord of both Elves and Men. He wore a grey mantle, with no adornment. An intricate golden ring sat on his left hand, which Elwing immediately recognized. Celebrian had the same exact ring. He was much taller, naturally, taller than her, and broader than her as well. Much different from the small, quiet ellon of Sirion.

"Do you remember Sirion?" Almost at once she regretted asking it. Of course Elrond would remember Sirion. Elves clearly remembered everything, without stain or blurriness, even those of childhood, unless they chose to forget certain memories voluntarily. Elwing suddenly felt fearful. Elrond could not possibly want to forget Sirion - could he?

"I do remember Sirion."

Elwing breathed a faint sigh of relief. Apparently not noticing, Elrond continued.

"The ocean is what I remember best. We spent a lot of time there." Elwing nodded. They certainly had, searching the horizon for Earendil. "Elros and I…" he trailed off, and looked down at his feet.

For the first time, Elwing realized that Elrond must have suffered greatly at the loss of his twin. She had known that twin bonds were deep, much more so than the average bond of siblings, and she also had known that bonds broken between And when she had announced that she chose the Eldar, she had felt a strange, unstable feeling as she looked at Earendil's face and realized that he wished to choose the Edain. That tilting, wrenching feeling had been the near-breakage of their bond. And how would Elrond have stood the breaking of his and Elros' bond? It must have been greatly traumatic, at the very least.

And then she realized that Elrond did not know if she knew about Elros.

"I know," she said, softly. Elrond looked back at her sharply. "I know he chose the Edain."

Elrond sighed and looked at the fire. "Yes. He did."

There was silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire, and the songs of birds out in the garden. Elwing continued to think about Elros. His cheerfulness, his temper, his love for running and playing sports.

She glanced up and found Elrond's eyes on her. He was looking at her expectantly. Now she had to explain. At long last she had her opportunity, and she better not waste it.

Yet Elwing still felt nervous. She stared into the fire, and Elrond, obviously sensing that she needed time, did not say anything. Elwing tried to sort it all out in her mind. But it was difficult. Too many things factored into this.

After a while she sighed. Best get it over with now. And without looking at Elrond she began.

She started with Doriath. Her memories of her parents, her brothers. The wonderful but brief happiness she had experienced.

When she came to the Second Kinslaying - all too soon - she passed over it quickly. Elrond knew all this; he did not need another retelling of the horrors that happened that night.

As she neared the Third Kinslaying, Elwing felt shaky, and found it hard to continue. But something kept her going, as if power were being put in her to help her live through all this.

She tried to pass quickly over what had happened at the cliffs, but here Elrond quietly held up a hand. Elwing paused, wondering what he was doing. Then Elrond spoke.

"Nana, you are not telling me everything. You need to tell me all of it. Nothing omitted."

She looked up at him, astonished. She was having a hard time enough, and did he not realize it? But her protest died away as she looked up at him and saw in his eyes warmth and compassion. And that power that she had felt earlier was now stronger.

She took up the tale again, and omitting nothing like Elrond said, explained her reasoning to flee, told how she had refused Maedhros' plea, how she had jumped with the Silmaril. She found it difficult to explain how she had turned into a bird, but Elrond gave her an understanding glance, clearly indicating that he knew it was the power of Ulmo.

Then she continued with how she flew to Earendil and dropped on the ship in a faint. His surprise when she returned to her normal form, and (she faltered at this point, not wishing to go over it all again) her explanation of what had happened at Sirion to Earendil, who had been devastated at the loss of their sons. She tried to stress this point, for she had heard the tales of supposedly how awful a father Earendil was, and wished to refute those accusations, no matter what grievances she herself held in her heart.

She went on with the story, how they came to Aman, her jumping on the shore to join Earendil. The long, long wait for Earendil as he searched for the Valar and begged deliverance for Elves and Men. Her meeting with a few citizens of Alqualonde, how they had been in awe of her and compassionate at the same time. She spoke of how she and Earendil had been given a choice, which brethren to choose. Her fright when she realized Earendil wished to be of Men. Her decision to be counted amongst the Eldar.

She talked about the War of Wrath, Earendil's triumph.

Finally, she spoke of the building of the white tower, learning to live with Earendil's nightly voyages, being friends with Idril, Tuor, Melian, and finally Celebrian.

And then, at last, she wrapped up with the journey from the tower to Tol Eressea and the events leading up to it.

Elrond did not speak for some time, only stared into the fire a while. Elwing wondered what he was thinking.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Do you feel better?"

A question she had not expected, but somehow was beautifully fitting.

"Oh, yes, loads!" She gave a shaky laugh, but a laugh it was nonetheless. Yes, she did feel much, much better. She felt free now. Freer than she had been for a very, very long time, perhaps freer than she ever had been in her life. Even flight was not so wonderful as this.

They remained there for a while, in thought, sipping tea and nibbling on small biscuits – not lembas, but light and delicious. The sunlight streamed in from a skylight in the roof. It was peaceful.

A knock on the door sounded, and Elrond rose and answered it. It was the elleth, Elthinn, from last night. She was holding a tray full of food, and behind her…

"Earendil!"

"I've been looking for you," Earendil said, as he walked into the room with that strong sailor's gait of his.

He sat down on the couch, seemingly unconcerned. Yet Elwing could still detect that sense of tension, of tumult and apprehension within him. She glanced at Elrond and, judging from the expression on his face, Elrond could see it too.

There was a pause, in which Elthinn set down the tray of food. She took the empty teapot and teacups and vanished, closing the door behind there.

Earendil looked at Elwing, with an unspoken question in his glance. Elwing knew immediately what it was.

"I've explained," she said out loud. Earendil looked relieved, but perhaps a bit annoyed that he had not been there.

More silence hung over the room, during which they ate and drank the food left by Elthinn. Soon the meal was finished.

Elwing found herself breaking the silence.

"Elrond, could - could you tell us everything?"

Earendil looked very confused, and Elwing explained with a few words; "He promised to." Earendil did not look convinced, but looked at Elrond expectantly.

Elwing glanced at Elrond, and almost had to suppress a laugh, as she saw that nervousness that must have been on her face now on his. But he nodded, a little stiffly, and started.

He began with Sirion, his and Elros' memories of that time. Elwing and Earendil listened closely. Elrond spoke of playing in the sand, building castles, splashing in the waves. A happy time, that Elwing had not fully appreciated.

He continued, recalling his memories of Sirion, and Elwing noticed that as the story went on she was mentioned less and less often. She supposed it was fitting. The Silmaril had taken up all her time. And Earendil was mentioned even less often.

Suddenly Elrond paused, and looked uncertainly at Elwing. Earendil shifted uncomfortably, and she knew instantly that this was now the time of the Third Kinslaying. Part of her wanted to forget about it. But she knew that she must hear it. Otherwise they could never properly reconcile.

"Go on," she said, curtly nodding her head. "And leave nothing out." Elrond, after a small pause, continued.

He spoke of the terror Elros and he had experienced. He spoke of the guard telling them to hide in the closet. A Noldo with a bloodstained blade ripping open the door, raising the blade. Elrond and Elros cowering down in terror.

And just before the Noldo dropped his blade on their heads, another appeared out and slew the Noldo. They were saved. The new Elf had quickly apologized for killing the Noldo in front of them, and then rushed them down the tower. Elrond and Elros had been too terrified to do anything but go with the Elf.

They had come upon the army, and that was when Elrond realized that this Elf was a Kinslayer. And that was only affirmed when the Elf introduced himself as Maglor.

Elrond told the whole story, and he told it well. He spoke about how they had fled with Maglor from Sirion, the last glimpses of their birthplace that they caught from afar. Meeting Maedhros, how they had been absolutely terrified of him, yet morbidly fascinated by the fact that he had only one hand. When Gil-galad had ambushed them, and Maglor put a sword to their throats, screaming that he would kill them if Gil-galad did not leave straight away. The one and only escape attempt.

Elrond spoke of how they had come to Amon Ereb. The distrust and fear that they lived in. The eventual forced trust. And finally the love that grew between the two sets of brothers.

Elwing felt the tears in her eyes, and felt the anger in Earendil's face. Yet Elrond did not heed this, and spoke on. He spoke warmly of the Sons of Feanor, much softer than he had of her and Earendil.

The night Maedhros spotted the Silmaril in the sky. The news that the Valar had come to Beleriand at long last. Maedhros' reaction of "It's about time". Maglor's sad silences.

Then he spoke of their last parting with the sons of Feanor. He left nothing out, as far as Elwing could tell. He spoke of the goodbyes and the sense that they would never see each other again.

They never did.

Then Elrond and Elros travelled to Gil-galad, who had welcomed them warmly. Gil-galad had initially been surprised by the tales Elrond and Elros bore, but accepted them into his house. They had stayed with him at the Isle of Balar, during the War of Wrath. When they realized that Beleriand was sinking, more ships were built. They drifted around on the Sea for some time, until the sinking was complete, and then sailed to where the Valar were encamped, in what was later the Grey Havens. The Valar were still there with the chained Morgoth, with many Maiar and Elves, and the Silmarils.

He spoke of the time they spent there. The aweing meeting with the Valar. Elrond and Elros had slept through Maedhros' and Maglor's raid, and only learned of it afterwards. Their grief. (Earendil looked particularly uncomfortable at this point.)

When at last he came to when Eonwe, the Herald of the Valar, bade them choose a kindred, he faltered. He sat silent, and so did Elwing and Earendil, trying to support him now even if they had not been able to before.

After a few moments he began once more. He spoke of how he had quickly chosen the Elves. The total shock he experienced when Elros announced his decision. The breaking of the bond between them. How Elrond, Cirdan, and Gil-galad had tried to make Elros change his mind. Their failure to do so.

He spoke of the Valar's departure, along with the Maiar and most of the Elves.

He spoke of the creation of Numenor, and Elros' joy and surprise when he learned that he was to be the leader of this new land known as Elenna.

Elrond remained in Lindon, in the service of Gil-galad. A few times he went over to the newly settled Numenor, meeting Elros' children and grandchildren.

Then, more firmly than he had of Elros' decision, he spoke of Elros' death.

He continued on. Service under Gil-galad. Watching the Numenoreans prosper. The visits of Tar-Aldarion. The founding of Eregion. The first hints of a New Shadow arising.

The welcoming of Annatar into Eregion. The making of the Rings of Power. Celebrimbor's realization that Annatar was none other than Sauron the Cruel.

The war. Leading Elves of Lindon to defend Eregion. Fleeing back. The founding of Imladris.

The marriage of Ar-Pharazon to Tar-Miriel. The humbling of Sauron, and his rise to power in Numenor. Watching as the descendants of Elros fell into darkness. The Great Armament and the fall of Numenor.

The Last Alliance. The gift of Vilya from Gil-galad. The siege of Barad-dur. The deaths of Elendil and Gil-galad.

His marriage to Celebrian. As he spoke of her Elrond's face was lit up with joy. He was happier than Elwing had ever seen him. She had filled a place in his heart that not even Elros had been able to fill. Elrond spoke of the birth of Elladan and Elrohir. The birth of Arwen.

He spoke of Imladris, the happy days of peace and pranks pulled by Glorfindel. The Dunedain, the descendants of Elros that often came to Imladris. He spoke of the coming of the Istari. He described the White Council.

Then he spoke of war slowly encroaching. Dol Guldur and the Misty Mountains. Celebrian's kidnapping and torment. Her passage over sea. The rage of their sons, their quest to avenge themselves on every single orc, that had only ever been calmed when Galadriel came and spoke to them, healing them.

He spoke of Estel, that one Dunadan that had won a place in Imladris like no other descendant of Elros. He spoke of the love that blossomed between Estel and Arwen.

He spoke of a company of dwarves, with a hobbit, on a quest to reclaim their home. He spoke of a great battle and the slaying of a dragon.

He spoke of the coming of four hobbits, bearing the Ring of Sauron. He spoke of a council that decided the Ring must be taken to Mordor.

He spoke of the waiting in Imladris, waiting, no knowledge of whether the Quest was going well or not.

He spoke of the slight vibration in the earth that told them of Sauron's fall, the triumph that the Eagles brought news of, the joy, the bells ringing in Imladris. He spoke of the fading of Vilya that he had felt that moment the Ring was destroyed.

He spoke of the journey to Minas Tirith, the wedding of Estel and Arwen.

And then, he spoke of the loss of his daughter for all time until the breaking of Arda. Her decision, just like Luthien's, to marry a mortal and die instead of living in bliss forever in Aman.

Finally, he ended with wrapping up his affairs, leaving Imladris under the jurisdiction of Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, and Erestor. The final trip to the Grey Havens, with Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo, and Bilbo. The leave taking.

There was a very long silence when he finished. Elwing and Earendil were slowly digesting everything. It was a long tale, and required much thought.

For the first time, Elwing truly understood Elrond's life. That he was regarded as one of the most powerful and wisest Elves in Middle-earth. Celebrian, despite her attempts, was never as good a speaker as Elrond. She had never been able to explain what he had been forced to live through as a child.

"I am sorry, Elrond."

He looked at her, with a slight smile on his face. "Nana, do not worry yourself." Then, suddenly, he stopped. Elwing looked at him questioningly, while Earendil also looked confused. But Elrond did not explain, staring into the fire. There was silence.

"Do you forgive me, now?"

Elwing stared at Elrond. It was still her fault, she felt, but she nodded anyway. "Yes, Elrond, I forgive you." A soaring, uplifting feeling pervaded her being. She smiled.

Elrond smiled back at her. "And you?" he asked Earendil.

Earendil nodded too. "I forgive you, Elrond," he said quietly.

There was another, shorter pause.

"So Celebrian is in Tirion," Elrond said thoughtfully.

"Yes, that's right," Earendil replied, who seemed to have gained courage from Elrond's asking for forgiveness.

"Does she know of me being here?"

"I don't know. We never sent a message to her."

"I shall do that, then." Elrond stood up. In a happier tone he asked, "Would you like to meet Galadriel and the hobbits?"

Elwing glanced at Earendil, who nodded. "Okay then, let's."

Elrond led the way out of the room, Earendil and Elwing following. As they walked down the staircase Elwing considered the situation.

Everything was better, much better than it had been earlier. Yet there still were things that felt wrong, still needed fixing. But Elwing, in her euphoric mood, felt that they would either disappear over time or soon be put to rights.

* * *

First of all, I am so sorry for having taken so long to update this! Classes started… need I say more? And I had a lot of trouble writing this. Elrond is quite truthfully the hardest character that I have ever written.

I feel as if I'm leaving Earendil out somewhat. Even though this is an Elwing-centric story, Earendil needs his due share in the story! What do you think?

Yes, Elven tea doesn't need sugar! Seriously, Elves are more 'in touch' with nature; the Valar, and so… yeah.

Let me confess, I based part of Maglor's first meeting with the twins off a wonderful story called 'Rift', by Acharion. I highly recommend it.

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are referenced heavily for Elrond's description here. The ring however is not mentioned in the books, though he would have one because of his marriage to Celebrian.

I've done a lot of research for the War of Wrath and the destruction of Beleriand, but I'm still not sure if the timeline is correct. Let's just say that's my version of what occurred.

Just in case you are confused, I'm laying out some basic facts here. Elwing has wings crafted of feathers; she does not turn into a real bird. The only time that happened was after she threw herself off the cliff at Sirion. Earendil gets to come home every day and in the morning sleeps. During the night he traverses the skies.

Thank you everyone for being so patient for this! And thanks to all that read, favorited, followed, and, most importantly, reviewed!

So, please, please review!


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